


Stultus Incultum

by SlimReaper



Series: Fics by iopele [3]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: "Does this look infected to you?", Courtship, Dating, Don't mess with the Hatchet, Fully Deserved, Furniture theft, Humor, M/M, Medical Conditions, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Rodimus can't take a hint, Unwelcome Interruptions, iopele
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 13:02:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5335103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlimReaper/pseuds/SlimReaper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ratchet and Drift don't get to go out on a date very often--being Third-In-Command and Chief Medical Officer really cuts into things like <em>personal time.</em> So when they finally do manage to get off the <em>Lost Light</em> for a nice date, Rodimus butting in to ask, "Does this look infected to you?" is right at the top of the list of things Ratchet really doesn't want to see or hear. Unfortunately, it happens all too regularly.</p><p>Perhaps it's time for the Hatchet to teach him a lesson in manners.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stultus Incultum

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Menial](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Menial/gifts).



> This fic is for the wonderful Menial!

“Oh, fragging  _pit._ ”

The words slipped out before Ratchet could stop them and he ducked his helm and raised the menu without much hope that the transparent datapad could really hide him. Drift looked up from his own menu. “Ratch? You okay?”

He had to bite back a growl because no, he was  _not_  okay. He’d been on extended duty shifts for weeks while the medical team struggled to deal with the aftermath of their disastrous attempted resupply stop at the GCSS--who knew that the once-neutral space station had been colonized by so many ex-Decepticons and was now seething with anti-Autobot sentiment? The ambush had severely wounded most of the resupply team, and the rescue team dispatched to recover them had also taken heavy damage.

Ratchet’s team had been working around the clock on the way to S’elar to save them all. They’d finally gotten all of their patients stabilized enough that Ratchet felt comfortable leaving the  _Lost Light_  for a long-overdue night off on the mech-friendly world. He’d been looking forward to spending a relaxing evening with the courtmate he had barely seen in weeks, an evening that he sincerely hoped would end with the two of them spending some quality time together in the luxury suite he’d taken at the best hotel at the spaceport.

And none of those plans included the mech currently heading their way.

“Every time,” he muttered, gripping the menu tighter as he watched the unwelcome interruption walking directly for their table. “Every. Slagging.  _Time._ ”

Drift looked truly worried now and Ratchet sighed and squeezed his hand, but he didn’t have time to speak before Rodimus reached the table and plopped down uninvited. “Hey, Drift,” he said cheerfully, but he barely glanced at him before turning to Ratchet. “Hey Ratch, I’m glad I caught you here. Do you have a second?”

Ratchet put down the menu and reluctantly faced his captain, forcing down a new surge of irritation before it could color his field. Drift was very sensitive to such things and he didn’t want to ruin his mood, too. “Actually, we’re on a date right now,” Ratchet said without much hope that Rodimus would take the unsubtle hint. He never did.

Rodimus just grinned and winked at Drift. “I won’t steal him from you long, Drift. You don’t mind, right?”

The swordsmech’s fingers tightened around Ratchet’s for a bare instant before he smiled and shook his head. “Of course not,” he replied, and now Ratchet was really getting pissed. Of  _course_ Drift was going to say he didn’t mind when Rodimus put it like that, and Ratchet strongly suspected that Rodimus knew that and had phrased the question deliberately just to get that reaction.

But Rodimus was speaking again before Ratchet had a chance to tell him to frag off. “It’s just a quick question,” he said as he shifted in his seat and put his back to the rest of the restaurant so no one but Drift and Ratchet could see him spread his thighs. He pointed down. “Is this something I should worry about?”

Ratchet didn’t even glance at whatever he was pointing at. “How about you go see First Aid about it?” he said pointedly, no longer making any effort to keep the growl from his tone. “I’m off-duty, Rodimus, and I’ve told you before that these kinds of questions are more appropriately addressed in the medbay.” He glared at him. “Many times, actually.”

The mech’s smile never faltered. “Naah, it’s not important enough to go to all that trouble. Can you just take a quick look?”

Now Drift’s field was sparking with annoyance and Ratchet didn’t have to have his courtmate’s specialized EM-reading training to know why.  _Not important enough to bother the mechs who are actually_ on duty _for this sort of thing, but important enough to interrupt what little time I get to spend alone with Drift,_  Ratchet thought angrily.

But he knew Rodimus wouldn’t go away until he got what he wanted, so Ratchet reluctantly looked down at where he was pointing. A small, mottled discoloration marred the armor high on one flame-orange inner thigh, and it looked like Rodimus had been scrubbing at it because the paint around it was scored and even chipped in one place.

Ratchet’s optics widened and he shoved back from the table, nearly tipping himself and Drift over in his haste to distance himself from Rodimus. “Holy Primus!” he gasped. Rodimus reached out to steady him and he flinched back. “No, stay back! Have you touched any mecha since that showed up?” When Rodimus just gaped at him, Ratchet snarled, “ _Rodimus!_  This is important-- _have you touched anyone?_ ”

Rodimus shook his head and reflexively started to cover the spot with one hand, but then he hesitated, clearly afraid to touch it. “N-no, I haven’t… what is it?” he whispered, his optics enormous with anxiety.

“ _Stultus incultum_ ,” Ratchet whispered, covering his spark with one hand.

“What is that? I’ve never heard of it,” Drift said, leaning over to see.

Ratchet pushed him back. “There’s no time for that--Rodimus, you need to get to the medbay  _now,_ ” Ratchet said in the tone he used in emergencies, the one that got attention and obedience and got it  _immediately._  “If that spreads to your interface array… I don’t want to alarm you, we can remove the infected parts, but we don’t have the supplies for a rebuild like that and I don’t think they sell them in this quadrant.”

If Rodimus had looked scared before, now he shifted to absolute panic. _“Remove?”_ he yelped, jumping up. “Remove my  _array?_ ”

“Only if it spreads there, and why are you still here talking to me? Get your aft to the medbay!” Ratchet ordered. Rodimus started to transform right there and Ratchet stopped him. “No, don’t transform, do you  _want_ this stuff all in your gears? You’re going to have to run for it. And you can’t leave that chair here either, it’s contaminated. Take it with you!” The speedster hesitated, glancing back at the waiters who were now staring at their table. Ratchet half-rose from his own chair and growled, “I’ll pay for the damn chair, just  _go!”_

When Rodimus had fled, holding the chair out in front of him like he half-expected it to grow fangs and bite, Ratchet calmly sat back down and smiled at Drift. “Now, where were we?” he asked as he picked up the menu again. “Oh, right. Have you decided what you want to order?”

Drift was staring after Rodimus with concern writ large on his faceplates and in his field. “Do you think he’ll be all right?” he asked worriedly. “You’re not going to have to--”

Ratchet shook his head. “Oh, there’s nothing wrong with him,” he reassured his courtmate. “He just fragged a Vhoorlian, that’s all. Their fluids are terrible about reacting with our chromatonanites and causing discolorations. It looks alarming, but a quick strip and repaint and he’ll be fine.”

“But you said if it spread to his array, you’d have to--but if he fragged them, it’s already there,” Drift replied slowly. He stared at the medic for a long moment and Ratchet couldn’t read his expression or his field by the time he spoke again. “And the chair?”

Ratchet snapped his fingers. “Oh, right!” He opened a commlink to the medbay. “First Aid? Ratchet here. I just sent Rodimus your way and he’s bringing a chair--I’ll tell you the whole story later, but just put that chair in containment for me, will you? It’s a trophy.” He listened for a second and then chuckled. “Good plan. Thanks, ‘Aid. Ratchet out.” Drift raised one optic ridge at him and Ratchet could no longer hold back his grin. “He’ll be spending a few hours in containment too, so we won’t have any more interruptions tonight.”

“You are a piece of work, you know that?” Drift murmured, shaking his head, but now he was grinning too. “That was incredibly devious…  _Hatchet._ ”

For once, that nickname made Ratchet chuckle. “Just tired of always having our time together interrupted for this kind of nonsense,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. Then he reached out and pulled Drift’s chair closer, taking the opportunity to slide the back of his knuckles along the curve of his sleek thigh armor before he took Drift’s hand again and laced their fingers together. “Now, do you know what you want?”

Drift lifted their hands and kissed Ratchet’s fingertips one by one, holding his optics the entire time. By the time reached Ratchet’s thumb and lightly nipped it as his field warmed with desire, Ratchet couldn’t help his cooling fans clicking on. “You,” Drift murmured against his plating. “Pay for the chair and let’s get out of here. I thing we should wash off this  _stultus incultum_  in a hot oil bath.”

Ratchet leaned closer and smiled. “I approve of this treatment plan.”

**Author's Note:**

>  _Stultus incultum_ means "stupid and ignorant/rude" in Latin (at least it does according to Google Translate). I know Cybertronians would have their own medical lingo instead of using human terms, but Ratchet was on Earth long enough to pick it up and a dead human language wasn't something he figured Rodimus would have bothered to learn. 
> 
> Also, Vhoorl is the birthplace of Cthulhu, and when I saw on [tfwiki](http://tfwiki.net/wiki/Vhoorl) that it also had an entry in The AllSpark Almanac, I couldn't resist using it. Rodimus is like Captain Kirk--he really will sleep with anyone! XD
> 
> I'm on tumblr as iopele. [Check out my tumblr page here!](http://iopele.tumblr.com/commissions)


End file.
